The Man In The Mask
by Chalcedony Rivers
Summary: Twenty-five year old Ernst Robel has spent ten years regretting, and paying the price for, his decisions. But one day, at the railtracks, his life takes an unexpected twist in the form of a strange, blonde-haired man he meets there. Hernst, eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Note-My first SA fic, so be nice! A little German used, but I'll give a translation at the end. Please review. Almost nothing makes me happier. ****I don't usually write in such a formal style, but I think it's quite fitting for SA. **_**Italics**_** are flashbacks. This is musical-compliant, not play-compliant.**

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**Ernst Robel sat in his favourite spot in the shop, staring out of the wide window. He lifted the mug to his lips, and took a sip of the hot coffee, burning his tongue and coating his lips with cream that Frau Koehler added to the beverage to sweeten it. He licked it off, and laid it down on the small table. The small café was empty, which was fair enough, it being so early in the morning. He sighed, and pushed his brown hair behind his ears. Somewhere in the close distance, he could hear the rattling of the large steam-train, The Hammermier, as it passed on the tracks. Ernst smiled wryly. He could practically hear the words ringing in his ears and through his mind.

"_One day, my dear, we can get on that train. We'll escape this town, and go to the country, and be happy" _

He had said once, long ago. And Ernst had looked up at him, wide eyes full of belief. Of course, that had been long ago, when they thought the world was easy. Ernst didn't think so anymore.

He scratched an itchy spot behind his ear, and took another sip of his steaming beverage. He set it down again, and looked at his watch. It was half past six. The lights were only just beginning to flick on behind closed windows, casting a dusty glow onto the street, reflected in the puddles from last night's rain. It was still fairly dark. The stars were only really just beginning to be overshadowed by the sunrise. He smiled secretively to himself. This was his favourite part of the day; the only part, he thought, that was only really worth getting up for.

He drained his cup, and wiped his mouth on the tissue. A plump woman with mousey curls and a red face in her mid-forties came into the room from the back entrance, and stood behind the counter, wiping a glass with a tea-towel. She smiled fondly at him, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

"You're open early, Frau Koehler" Ernst said, not removing his focus from the window. The woman shrugged.

"I always open early for you, Herr Robel" she replied warmly. "You're my best customer. Would you like another?"

Ernst considered the offer, and nodded. Frau Koehler walked over to the table, still carrying the glass and towel, and took his mug. She re-filled it, and brought it back to the table. Ernst took it gratefully, blew it, and drank.

"Steady! You'll burn your throat!" the woman said, and tutted. "Young men. Always think they know what's best for them"

Ernst prized his lips away from the cracked cup, and went back to looking at the view. The clouds were purple and heavy from last night's summer storm. Ernst had wanted to run out in it, and get soaked to the skin, like he had when he was fifteen. But now he was twenty-five, and too old for childish things. Besides, he had to look after his Mama, now she was ill, no matter how much she disliked him.

"_Let's run through it" Hanschen said decisively. Ernst looked at him as if he was mad._

"_What? We'll get drenched!"_

_Hanschen smiled at him, the sort of sly smile he used when he knew he was right._

"_But where's the fun in staying dry?"_

_Ernst rolled his eyes. There was no stopping Hanschen when he had made up his mind. Hanschen looked at him, knowing he had won._

"_Drie…Zwei…Eins!" he yelled, and the two boys charged, laughing like madmen, through the wood as the rain plummeted onto their clothes and skin._

Frau Koehler looked at the daydreaming man, and shook her head. He was lost in a memory. He did that a lot. Best thing to do then was to leave him alone. So she did.

It took Ernst almost an hour to finish his coffee, by which time it was half seven, the drink was cold and the sun had risen over the city. More people came and left the café and the streets outside began humming with the activity of life, of adults in suits coming and going, walking for jobs and trains and families. He stood up, left a handful of Marks on the table, and left the shop.

It was bitterly cold for an April morning, and Ernst rubbed his hands together to keep them from freezing. His big black overcoat hung off him, somewhat like a shroud, and his breath came out in small puffs that condensed in the morning air. It may have been the beginning of spring, but it still felt like winter. He walked, not quite sure where he was going, which may have been best. Despite his lengthy education, he had no work to go to, and he was certainly not heading home to face his crabby mother. His face stung with the cold wind. The sky was powder-blue and cloudless.

Eventually, he ended up at the train station. There was only one platform, as the trains only ever went one way. He liked it there. In between the hourly passing of the trains, it was mostly quiet. There he could think. Not exactly relax, but then again, his thoughts never were exactly relaxing. They were mostly musings, or ponderings, or memories. Always the same memories. They were familiar, like old friends, or rather enemies. Yes, the sort of schoolyard bullies that took the pocket-money of the small child who couldn't stand up for himself. Those were the sort of memories he liked to think about. He didn't like to forget the things that made him who he was.

"_Herr Rilow? Herr Robel? One of you answer me! Who is responsible?"_

Ernst shook his head slowly, his cheeks numb with biting cold.

"_I am, Rektor" _

Then the tracks began to rumble. Ernst looked up at the clock, which hung from the iron rafters of the station. It was already eight. Goodness, he thought to himself. One could really get lost in his thoughts if he wasn't careful. The tracks shook so much that Ernst was sure they would crack. But they didn't, and soon there was a horrible screeching sound as The Hammermier came round the corner. It was a large train, painted a dark shade of green, and the steam bellowed from the funnel.

The train stopped, and the world was still again.

The doors opened, and a crowd of people filed out of the train, some with suitcases and various luggage bags, some with young children, some with sharp suits and fine hats. There was a flurry of noise and activity as people called out to each other.

"See you next week, Elfriede!"

"Mama! When will we be seeing Papa again?"

"Jan! Over here! Jan!"

"Good to see you, Herr Muller!"

"Papa, Hilde stole my teddy!"

"Jan! For God's sake, you saukerl! Jan!"

"I can't find my ticket, Sofie!"

"I hope mother's made lunch, I'm starved!"

"Jan! JAN!"

"For Christ's sake, Niklas, shut up, I can see you!"

Eventually, the platform slowly emptied of people, the noise filtering into a distant echo. And then it was quiet again. Ernst swung his feet, smiling to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement, over the other end of the track. One person hadn't left yet. It was a young man, his feet surrounded by battered bags and cases, lighting a cigarette. The flame blazed for a moment, before a puff of smoke emitted from the stick. The man dropped the match, grinding it under the toe of his boots, and drew with relief on the cigarette.

Ernst turned away, and looked up at the sky. The clouds were swollen and purple, the colour of the sore he got as a child when he was stung by a bee. Over the other end of the platform, the man coughed, and Ernst looked over in reflex. The man looked up, and his face was visible, the rounded curve of his nose, the lemon-yellow hair that was not hidden by the black hat, the…

Above the platform, the pregnant clouds burst, and the rain fell.

Ernst stood up, his hands quivering. He took a few unsure steps forward, like a newborn lamb, and silently cursed his hesitance. He stood upright, and took another step forwards. The man turned his head and looked at him.

"H-…Hanschen?" Ernst said, and he smiled. It was, it was really him. He could never forget that face! He took another, confidant step forward.

"Hanschen. It is you" he said quietly. Hanschen blinked, and smiled pleasantly.

"I'm sorry?" he said politely. "I beg your pardon, Herr. There must be some mistake. My name is Klaus. Klaus Schmittmann. And you are?"

Ernst's chest tightened.

And then there was just the sound of rain, beating its tinny sound on the platform roof.

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**Translation:**

**Drie, Zwei, Eins – Three, two, one**

**Saukerl - Insult, referring to a pig. The female equivalent is Saumencsh.**

**Rektor – Headmaster**

**Herr/Frau – Mr. / Mrs.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note-****Thanks for all the lovely people who reviewed this. It made my morning. In case you're wondering, the title is from a character in the original SA play. I thought it was quite fitting. I own nothing except: the original play (which is technically my mother's), a few tracks on my iPod, a program and an undying love for Jamie Blackley (the English Hanschen).**

Ernst looked up at Hanschen, the confusion clearly written across his features.

"Hanschen…it's me, it's Ernst"

Hanschen cocked his head slightly, taking in the man in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I don't know anybody by that name. You must have me confused with somebody else" he said. His tone was soft, quiet, gentle. Ernst shook his head.

"But…"

Hanschen smiled kindly.

"Don't worry yourself, Herr. People often get me confused. They tell me I have a very familiar face" he extended his hand, his voice gradually becoming firmer, like a father reprimanding a small child. "But I am not this Hanschen person. My name is Klaus. Klaus Schmittmann"

Ernst looked up at the man. He felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. The whole thing was so unreal he almost felt like bursting into thick, hysterical laughter. _I don't know anybody by that name_. Surely…no…Hanschen…

The young man's extended hand was perfectly still and calm. Slowly, steadying his breathing until he was almost sure he wasn't breathing at all, he took the hand, and shook it. Hanschen…no, Klaus, smiled. Was that relief in his eyes?

"Ernst Robel" he muttered hopefully, his voice trembling.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Herr Robel" said Klaus, smiling. Ernst dropped his hand as if it was red-hot. Herr Robel! Hanschen had never called him that.

The rain that had been thundering down on the platform's metal canopy had eased a little, but it was still there. For his large black coat, Ernst suddenly felt a shiver wash over him. He wanted to turn and to run far away, away from all this. Run far away and never come back. Klaus looked at him, almost expectantly.

"W-what brings you t-to this town?" Ernst stuttered. The words tasted stale in his mouth. He looked down at his feet, not being able to bring himself to look his acquaintance in the eyes. Klaus sighed, with an air of melancholic weariness.

"No reason in particular. I just wanted a change of scenery, I suppose"

Ernst tried to swallow the lump that clotted in his throat, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks and betray him. The air came thickly through his nostrils. Not for him, Hanschen? Only he wasn't Hanschen. So, who was he, this strange man who was Hanschen but yet not Hanschen?

"Hello? Herr Robel?"

Ernst jumped out of his daydream with a start. Klaus was looking at him, with a concerned expression.

"Y-Yes?" he said attentively.

"I was asking where you lodge?"

"J-just down Himmel Street. And you?"

"I have a room down Fiedler Street. They're close. Shall we walk together?"

"Yes…of course" Ernst said, barely disguising the touch of bitterness in his voice at the ironically unkind request. But Klaus was, apparently, very thick-skinned, as he hardly seemed to notice, and just smiled, and they began to walk.

"_Good afternoon, Ernst. What are you doing?"_

"_H-Hanschen! What does it look like I'm doing?"_

"_Oh? The kitten's learning to use its claws?" the blonde boy observed. He waited for a moment, before sighing exasperatedly._

"_Fine. You're…reading?"_

"_Yes"_

"_Care to elaborate?"_

"_No"_

_Hanschen groaned. "Oh, come on! I've walked all the way from home to get here. Don't be dull!"_

"_I'm not. I'm reading. And I've just read this same sentence about sixteen times since you came, so now I'm giving up"_

"_Good"_

_Ernst sighed, carefully folded the corner of the page he was on, and laid the book in the grass._

"_Well, I'm distracted now, so what do you want?"_

"_Nothing. I only came over here with the intention of distracting you"_

"_Hanschen…" Ernst began angrily, but was silenced by Hanschen's sudden laugher. "W-what?" he spluttered. But Hanschen just continued laughing, and suddenly Ernst was laughing too, as if he hadn't laughed in ages, even though there was nothing, really, to be laughing at._

Ernst blinked out of his memory. He had been walking automatically, blindly even, but his companion seemed content with his quietness. They were walking along a small dusty road, with fields on either side, the town and the station and all the people a little way behind them. It had been nicknames "The Long Mile" by generations of schoolchildren, but was really only a short road. Ernst could already see the spire of the church up ahead. It was a little reassuring to have it there. It was real, solid, unlike the past hour.

"There's the village" he said in a small voice that was almost a whisper. Klaus looked up, his face broadening into yet another dazzling smile that made Ernst's insides squeeze and contract together in pain.

"Oh, isn't it lovely!" he exclaimed. "So pretty! It's just what I was hoping for!"

Ernst blinked. He was inclined to disagree with his companion. He thought that the village was ugly. The twisted river often cackled at him as he passed by, the clambering trees whispering mocking words with the cold wind. The houses were judgmental, staring at him with their stony faces whenever he walked past them. And so was the church, pointing blasphemously towards the sky, overlooking the rotting vineyard. Of course, it could always be his memories of the town that had warped his view of the setting.

"Isn't it beautiful, Herr Robel? You are so lucky to have lived here!"

Ernst almost scoffed.

"Y-yes, I suppose I am" he muttered. Klaus looked down at him, his tall frame towering and casting shadows like scars, with a curious expression.

"You do not think so?" he asked. Ernst shrugged.

"Yes, I agree that it is picturesque. But I also believe that the people make the town"

"Ah, I see I have sought out a philosopher?" Klaus teased gently.

"Not really" Ernst replied briefly.

"Oh? Then what are you? An academic? A saint? A poet?"

"I am none of those things" Ernst said, almost apologetically. "I am just Ernst Robel"

Klaus nodded. And then the tension around them once again became stifling. Presently, however, they reached the church, and the winding road that crossed the hill to the vineyard. And then they reached Fiedler Street, and Klaus, with a warm farewell, turned down it. Ernst watched him for a fleeting moment, how he walked, and the way he held his head as he looked up in wonder at the houses that he had never seen before. Or so he said. Klaus's words were truthful, but Hanschen's slippery lies could fool even the Devil. If Ernst wasn't careful, he was sure he would end up believing the whole thing. He was almost there already.

Himmel Street held a sense of foreboding as Ernst slowly, carefully, made his way down it. He was home far too early, as it was still morning, and he knew his mother was likely to make a fuss. He stopped outside his house. It was large and grey, and imposing. The street was far too quiet, and he suppressed a shiver. Then, he unlatched the door, and walked inside the house.

"Ernst!" immediately came a piercing shriek from upstairs. "Is that you?"

Ernst sighed wearily.

"Yes, mama" he called back.

"Come here then!"

Ernst slowly wiped his feet on the doormat, and hung up his huge black overcoat. He took off his huge black boots, shook them free of mud, and placed them carefully underneath the hat stand. Then he trod gradually up the stairs, avoiding the boards he knew were creaky from years of practice. The door to his mother's room was right in front of him on the landing. He took a deep breath, and went in.

Frau Robel was a skeletal woman, with hard wrinkles like trenches lining her once taught skin and a mass of wiry blonde hair. She sat up, hunched over, in bed, clinging onto the bed sheets and regarding her son across the room. Ernst stood calmly and avoided his mother's gaze.

"Why are you home so early?" she demanded, her voice harsh and cracked from illness.

"I had nothing to do" Ernst replied, half-truthfully.

"Why? Shouldn't you have a job to go to? God knows your education was expensive enough!" his mama replied, her mouth twisted in malice. She already knew his answer.

"No, mama" he said, looking abashed at a nail in the floorboard.

"You're a disgrace to the family" Frau Robel sneered crabbily. "If you father could see you now…"

But he can't, Ernst wanted to scream. He can't because he's in Berlin with his mistress, and it's not hard to see why, you hag! It was at times like this he would happily lay a pillow over his mother's head and press down.

"You worthless little sinner!" his mother continued. "After all I've done! Get out of my sight! You are not fit to be called my son!"

And Ernst was very happy to oblige.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note-****Thanks for all the lovely reviews! They really do make my day, so please continue them.**

The sun was setting. Ernst sat on the front porch of his home, and watched it until his eyes stung and coloured circles flashed in his mind. The light casting on the road was a deep-set orange, the sort of colour that seemed to seep into everything it touched. Unfortunately, Ernst wasn't in that sort of mood.

Who on Earth was Klaus Schitmann if not Hanschen Rilow? In everything on the surface they were exactly the same: the same hair, eyes, nose. The same tone and dialect. The same build and figure. Everything was the same. But, somehow, they were so different. Ernst groaned out loud and thumped his hand down on the wood, sending a lone bird flurrying away in surprise. What was going on? And why in the world was it happening to him?

"Ernst Robel?"

Ernst looked up quickly, squinting as the sun's rays blocked out the figure in front of him, showing only a blunt silhouette.

"Hello?"

The figure stepped forward into the shadow, and smiled anxiously.

"I'm sorry. Were you dreaming?"

"Anna!" Ernst breathed. "N-No. Please. How are you?"

The blonde girl sighed a little. She really was quite beautiful, Ernst thought. Her soft curves caressed the faded red of her dress, her curls cascading down her back. She was holding a basket with a loaf of bread in it.

"I'm quite well. And yourself?"

"Fine…" Ernst muttered. He hadn't spoken to Anna in…well; it must be eight years or so now. She had so changed, ripened with time's gentle touch. She looked around herself nervously, as if worried something would leap out the shadows at her.

"I'm sorry, Ernst" she murmured softly. "I really shouldn't be here"

Ernst nodded. He understood perfectly. Of course she would not be allowed to talk to him. In the past few years, in his village, he had become the invisible boy. Which was not surprising, really. Most people he knew had left the town, but the few who stayed, like Anna, knew and remembered, as did their parents, and that was enough for him. And the newcomers just steered clear of the "peculiar Robel boy", sensing something about his withdrawn, daydreaming presence that was just not quite right.

"I don't mind, Anna. Honestly" he muttered softly.

Anna's face looked pained, as if she was deciding a monumental decision. Then, with a decisive nod of the head, she took the steps to the porch and heavily sat herself down next to a very surprised Ernst.

"So" she said firmly. "How are things?"

"W-what…?" Ernst stuttered. This was certainly not the outcome he had been expecting. He had been expecting a mumbled excuse of absence. Anna undoubtedly never failed to surprise.

"How are things?" she repeated. "We have not spoken in so long. I feel a quick catching up is in order"

Ernst blinked.

"I'm…good, I suppose. A-and you?"

"I am quite exhausted! Mama has been sending me back and forth from the market the whole day. You would think I was a little girl the way she speaks to me, not a young woman who will soon be married and mama to her own children"

"M-married?" Ernst said, his nervous stutter highlighted. "Well…I…I mean, c-congratulations..."

"Yes. Did you not know?"

"No. To who, may I ask?"

"Georg Zirschnitz. I believe you went to school together?"

Ernst turned away from the woman, smiling to himself. The light was slowly dimming.

"Yes. Yes I did"

"And how about you, Ernst?" Anna said, clearly a little uncomfortable as she remembered her reasons to leave, the little bravery she had left seeping into the evening wind. "We have not spoken in so long"

"No" Ernst laughed anxiously. "Not much has happened since we last spoke, Anna"

"That cannot be true! Nothing can't have happened in eight years!"

Ernst smiled wryly. "I'm afraid that nothing is exactly what happened. I have lead quite an uneventful life"

There was a short pause. Anna shifted her legs, brushing the front of her dress down.

"Georg says he often sees you, down by the rail tracks, when he goes to work"

"That is possible. I cannot say I have noticed him in particular. He must have changed since I saw him last"

"He says you are often lost in a dream"

Ernst laughed, a little choked, to himself.

"I'm sure I am. I find nothing more wondrous than to forgot myself in my own mind"

"You were always a queer one, Ernst. What is there to think about in such an uneventful life as yours?"

Ernst shrugged.

"Lots. You would be surprised how much, in fact"

Another silence descended. Ernst stood up, took a box of matches from beside a potted plant, and began to light the candles, encased in clay pots, which were lined around the porch. Then he sat back down again.

"So, when is the wedding?" he said, changing the subject. It worked. Anna's face quickly flushed, looking girlish in the candlelight.

"In two weeks time" she said, smiling. "Oh, you must come, Ernst! Everyone will be there: Otto and Thea and Martha. Please do. It will do you good"

"I don't know…" Ernst muttered, his voice the ghost of a whisper. For a moment, Anna looked crestfallen, but proceeded undeterred.

"But you must! It will be such fun! Everybody asks about you when they write"

"I may have to stay home and look after mama" Ernst protested, his argument obviously lacking heart.

"She will be fine for one afternoon!" Anna wheedled. "Please?"

"I shall try" Ernst said, avoiding her gaze.

"Do you promise?"

Ernst almost laughed at his friend. She was a woman in body, but still a schoolgirl at heart. "I promise"

"Oh, wonderful…"

"Does he love you?"

The words shocked him as soon as they left his mouth. They hung in the air like smoke for a moment before Anna softly spoke.

"What?"

"D-does he l-l-love you?"

Even in the darkness, Anna could see the clenching of his throat, the sudden rapid blinking to hide the moisture that was forming on the ends of his long eyelashes.

"Oh, Ernst…"

"J-just forget it" he said, burying his face in his hands. And then, neither of them felt like the strong, independent twenty-five year olds they were. They felt like fifteen year old children for whom the world had gone badly wrong. Anna reached out a tense hand and rested it on the quivering shoulders of her friend.

"Ernst…"

She didn't know what to say. She could easily guess what this was all about, and she swore to God, if she ever had the misfortune to see Hanschen Rilow again she would honestly kill him, hell or no hell. She quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry, Anna" Ernst said. Anna tried to ignore the tear-stains on his cheeks. She stepped down from the porch, and turned to face him.

"It's getting late, Ernst. I should go, before mama scolds me" She offered him a timid smile, for reassurance. "I shall see you at the wedding"

Ernst breathed slowly, and Anna turned to go. She walked a few paces, and then stopped, and turned again.

"You know, Ernst…nobody deserves the life you have"

Then she hurriedly walked away into the open arms of the night.

Ernst angrily brushed the tears away from his face, and lay down. The night was quiet. The only sounds were a few stray crickets chirping, and Anna's fading footsteps. The stars were beginning to show their apologetic faces.

"_Hanschen…no, stop, I need to get home!"_

"_Why?" the other boy coaxed. "What is there for you at home that's better than me?"_

_Ernst rolled his eyes and sighed._

"_You must have the largest head this side of Germany"_

_The clinging hands pulled him back down into another kiss. Ernst fought to get away, and when he was finally aloud to come up for air, he protested against Hanschen's touch._

"_Look here, stop it! I told you I need to be home by seven! It's already getting dark, and its cold, and…hey, I said no!"_

"_But my darling" Hanschen cajoled with a sly smile. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't leave me here all alone in the dark, would you?"_

"_I do love you. So get up!"_

"_And what if I don't?"_

"_Then we get in more trouble then we're already in for the time and the grass stains on my nice jacket!"_

"_That's your father. My father lets me stay out as long as I want"_

"_Well, good for Herr Rilow"_

"_Do I trace a touch of sarcasm, Ernst?"_

"_Hanschen, I need to get home! Please!"_

_Hanschen sighed. Obviously this was going to be harder than he thought. Obviously he had rubbed off on Ernst too much (in more senses than one). He smiled sadly, sticking his lower lip out a little in a way that he knew Ernst found irresistible._

"_What, Ernst? No kiss goodnight?"_

_Ernst sighed as well, and leant back down to Hanschen's satisfied kiss, knowing that once again, as he always did, his cohort had won._

Ernst shivered. The night air had become chilly. He stood up, blew out the candles, and went back inside to sleep and to dream.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note-****Ok, hopefully my plotline will start moving a little faster now my new aim is to update once a week. Thanks for lovely reviews. I originally intended Anna to be Ilse, but I thought Ilse was too "knowledgeable" for the scene. Any comment? Enjoy!**

If Ernst was to sit down and make a timeline of his life, he would separate it into two sections: Before Hanschen, and After Hanschen. Before Hanschen, there was happiness and childhood, innocence and the gentle laughter of children at play. After Hanschen, there was exile and sadness. But After Hanschen, there was also love. There was no During Hanschen. That period was too short to deserve a title. Now, he wasn't sure. Now, even thought it had only been a day, he was dividing his time into Before and After Klaus. Before Klaus, there was simple ignorance. After Klaus, there was complexity and confusion and insecurity. And Ernst mostly thought he was happier with the ignorance.

It was six in the morning. The sun was just beginning to rise over the sleepy village, and Ernst was making his way down The Long Mile, hands in pockets, breath clouding in the frozen air. He hadn't slept a wink last night. Every time he rolled over he could feel Hanschen next to him, and his tired mind let him believe it until he reached out to touch clammy sheets instead of soft skin. Then his mother was awake at five, demanding a cup of tea before yelling at him to get out of her sight. Such was Ernst Robel's daily routine.

It being a Sunday, the train tracks were usually closed, but Ernst preferred the endless quiet that was not frequently disrupted by the Hammermier. He sat down on his favourite bench, feeling the familiar wood underneath him, and smiled. The wood was slightly damp from last night's light rainfall, but he didn't really mind. After yesterday's confusion, he needed some normality. He shivered a little, the scene bringing him quickly back to his first stint at the station. He'd needed to get out of the house, but his thoughts had easily taken over, and he'd ended up sleeping there over the night, and awakening drenched in cold rain. He had slipped home for his mother to not even realise he had been gone at all, and the sense of hurt in that had been the same as the child who runs away from home for the afternoon only to return unnoticed. He'd never let his memories run away with him again.

"_Herr Rilow? Herr Robel? One of you answer me! Who is responsible?"_

"_I am, Rektor"_

Ernst shivered, although there wasn't any breeze. The air was completely still. A small mouse ran fearlessly in between the train-tracks, its nose twitching, sniffing the oil-streaked air. Ernst smiled in amusement. The mouse ran off.

Ernst folded his hands together as if in silent prayer, his restless mind casting questions that would not let him slip into the sweet oblivion of dreams. Klaus, Hanschen, Klaus, Hanschen. It was like the Hanschen he knew had been replaced by a changeling. Only, changelings were supposed to be evil little brutes, weren't they? And as far as he could tell, Klaus was far more polite and chivalrous then Hanschen…

Don't think like that, he chided himself. Klaus is practically a stranger. But, then again, he wasn't, because he was Hanschen. And, oh God, it was just far too confusing for his mind to handle. Why couldn't be just forget it? Forget everything. Yes, that would be nice. To have such a glorious sense of sweet bliss forever. To always be Before Hanschen. To be a child for the rest of his days. Not to die, oh no, not like Moritz Steifel, whose dreams of oblivion had ruined the life he had. Just…to be young and free. Yes, to Ernst, that sounded like his idea of heaven.

"Well, good morning Ernst!"

Ernst didn't even need to look behind him; he knew perfectly well whose voice it was.

"Good morning, Hanschen"

There was a short pause in which the realization of what Ernst had said hit him squarely in the chest, leaving him breathless. He turned to look behind him. Klaus showed no signs of anger. He just stood, hands behind his back, regarding Ernst calmly and coolly.

"K-Klaus! I meant Klaus! I'm so sorry…" Ernst quickly said. Klaus's face softened.

"It's alright" he muttered quietly. "And although I feel obliged to ask who Hanschen is, I shall not. Some things are best kept private, don't you agree?"

Ernst nodded, ashamed of the slip of his tongue. Klaus took a few steps, and sat down next to him. Ernst's breath caught in his throat.

"Why do you come here so early in the morning?" he asked. "It is not an ideal spot"

"It may not be, but it does very well for me" Ernst replied, hardly daring to look up at the young man.

Klaus nodded, as if pondering something. Then he turned, and smiled kindly.

"Shall we go somewhere warmer?"

Ernst nodded civilly, although he had absolutely no desire to.

The two men stood up, and passed through the small gate that lead to the cobbled streets of the village. Ernst had always found it slightly odd that the town was divided into two parts, connected only by the dust-road. Now, he knew that this was the industrial side, with its new inventions and large modern houses, built around the train station, the same place, yet completely different. Most people in his side of the town were scathing of this part, and rarely ventured over, which is why he supposed he liked it here a little more. Nevertheless, it was still the same place, with the same damn rumors. He just wanted to go to a place where nobody knew him.

"Ernst?" a sing-song voice interrupted his thoughts, and he awoke to see Klaus waving his hand in front of his face, a broad smile crinkling his features.

"Oh…I-I apologize-" Ernst began, but Klaus interrupted him.

"Don't. You are obviously a man who enjoys his own company"

"Most people would find that infuriating"

"Really? I find it rather endearing. Oh, this looks nice"

Ernst looked up to see that they had stopped outside Frau Koehler's café, and that Hanschen was looking through the window with interest at the cake stand, a longing twinkle in his eyes. Ernst almost laughed. Almost. Klaus turned back to him.

"Shall we go in? It's empty, and warm, so it will fulfill both our needs"

Ernst nodded.

Klaus pushed open the door to the shop, and the bell swung gracefully. Frau Koehler looked up from where she was almost asleep on the desk, and a small smile flickered on her face when she saw the men.

"Herr Robel!" she smiled. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, Frau Koehler" Ernst replied, with a graceful smile. The plump woman eyed Klaus cautiously, before apparently deeming him appropriate, and flashing him a smile laced with warmth and friendliness. Klaus took a seat away from the window. Ernst looked longingly at his favourite spot, before taking a seat next to his companion. Frau Koehler departed into her prized kitchen.

"You have been here before?" Klaus questioned.

"Yes. A great many times, actually"

"You didn't say"

"I didn't think it was particularly important"

Klaus opened his mouth to speak, but seemingly considered something, and slowly closed it again. Ernst smiled, appreciating the quiet. When they were fifteen, Hanschen had hated the quiet, had said it was too suffocating. But Ernst had never thought so. It wasn't suffocating, it was enticing, a hidden place where you could say or do just about anything and it would be kept a glorious, blissful secret. You could easily just slip into silence, and loose yourself in it's cloudy midst. No, that was one occasion were Ernst disagreed with Hanschen. And, apparently, Klaus did too.

"So, Ernst…tell me a little about yourself"

Ernst's eyes flickered up to the intent, taught gaze of those vivid blue eyes. He smiled softly to himself.

"There is nothing to tell"

"I am sure that is not true"

"No, it really is. My life has been completely without purpose"

"Surely not. No idyllic childhood? Having grown up here…God, I know I would have"

A childhood, Ernst thought. Yes, once upon a time, before childish game gave way to fearful glances. After Hanschen, he did not know how to speak to any other children.

"I suppose not"

Klaus smiled at him. It was one of those smiles that were mock-cruel, but held a relentless happiness behind them that was impossible to miss. His eyes were laughing.

"You, Ernst Robel, have a deep dark, terrible secret, and I now make it my solemn duty to uncover it"

"Why are you so interested in me?" Ernst blurted. Then, as the words suspended in the air, he closed his eyes a little, and muttered a barely audible apology. There was a short silence before Klaus spoke again.

"Why am I so interested in you? Because you are interesting. And because I make it a personal challenge to learn as much as possible about friends"

A friend. As much as the prospect should excite Ernst, it only left a dull ache in his chest and a bitter taste between his lips. A friend only meant promises one couldn't keep. He'd had friends, once, but hadn't they all avoided him like the plague once the stories began to circulate. And what was the chance of Klaus, innocent young man as he was, to start talking to a house Frau, and to hear these same stories, and to go exactly the same way as Thea, and Otto, and all the others who had been his "friends". It was far better to keep yourself isolated, Ernst thought, than to risk that sort of pain again. And could he really count this man as a friend, this man who said he had only met him yesterday, but had already turned his whole world upside down with memories.

"Right. Of course" he whispered. Klaus looked at him, his face concerned. But he just smiled softly, and took a sip of the coffee that had appeared in front of them. Ernst hadn't even noticed Frau Koehler come over.

A short while later, the drinks had been slowly consumed. Klaus was up at the till, paying, and conversing with the owner of the shop.

"He is a queer one, isn't he?" Ernst heard Klaus say quietly.

"Oh yes, but you mustn't hold it against him" Frau Koehler protested. "He's a lovely man, at most. But there's something there. Always has been"

"Yes. Childhood, maybe. But I shan't make any of it my business"

"Poor lamb. He always dreams so. Sometimes I wonder…"

Ernst smiled a little to himself.

Maybe, he thought, it was time for a walk up to the vineyard.

**Note-A slightly pointless chapter, but the next one will be better, I promise!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Note-****I officially love all my reviewers unconditionally. Thanks to Demactica for penning the name "Klauschen", which I may have to steal. This story is divided, I think, into three questions. One of them shall now be answered. Enjoy!**

The vineyard wasn't how he remembered it. It was older, withered, the dark earth arid and crumbled; the vines dark and dry, twisting arthritically around the wooden canes that kept them upright. There was no sign of fruit. It was not yet the season for grapes. The ground cracked under his shoes as he walked, and a stray bird took flight in surprise. The yard was empty, abandoned by the farmers when it was deemed unusable. The whole place looked frail. No, not how he remembered it at all.

Although, in fairness, he hadn't been up here for almost a year. He never felt the need to. After all, there was nothing to come up here for, except for the view, which he had to admit was fairly spectacular. You could see the whole town: the church, and all the houses, small and beneath him. They would often run up here, as small children, and marvel at the naive wonder of being so high above everything. I'm the king of the castle, and you're the dirty rascal. That had always been Otto, bagging the role of the tyrannical king for himself, although it was so unlike his real-self's personality.

But at least it was quiet, and calm, and nobody knew how to get up here except for the farmers and the children, and in different respects, both were all long gone. It was a far cry from the chaotic mess of life, and that was why he came up here in the first place, because life was just too complex at the present.

The most prominent thing about the scene was the large beech tree, which stood just shy of the neat rows of vines. It was colossal, casting towering shadows everywhere. It was one of those trees where, when you're young, you want to climb to the top, higher and higher, to see if you can reach heaven. It was where they had sat, ten years ago, stealing kisses and talking, talking for hours on end. And it where Ernst sat now, winding his finger around a small blade of grass, knowing that nobody would find him up here.

"_You know I love you, Hanschen"_

"_Yes, I do. Everybody loves me"_

Like many things in life, it had all started with carelessness.

"_Yes, b-but…"_

"_I love you too"_

They had been careful, up until that point. They were young, and in love, and love can be blinding. It was far more exciting to be reckless.

"_You…w-what?"_

"_I, mean, I…I do, you know. Love. You"_

Occasionally, they would let their hands just gently bump together, without anyone noticing, or speak a little softer to each other. Once or twice, they snuck off together during their lunch break, telling their parents that they were having a picnic by the river.

"_Hanschen…"_

"_Yes, Ernst?_

But on that particular day, they had felt completely separate from everything else. And that, of course, was where the trouble began.

"_I love you"_

"_And I love you. This conversation could go in circles, couldn't it?"_

They had loitered behind after Latin, just to talk. That's all they had been doing. Just talking, together. They were surely allowed to do that.

"_Y-Yes, it could"_

"_So kiss me"_

Ernst had leant towards his lover, and their lips briefly met, just for a moment. But then the door had opened.

"_What on Earth…?"_

"_H-Herr Sonnenstich!"_

Love is impatient. Nothing lasts forever.

"_What is the meaning of this…this…abomination?"_

"_Wait, sir, you're mistaken!"_

Herr Sonnenstich, cruel and ignorant as he was, was not stupid, so their pleas fell on deaf ears as he dragged them away.

"_The Rektor will be happy to deal with this monstrosity"_

"_Oh God, sir, please…"_

Ernst had begged and begged, but Hanschen stayed so calm, so quiet, and Ernst had just wanted to scream at him. The wait outside the Rektor's office, silenced by the disgusted stare of Herr Sonnenstich, had at that time been the most painful moment of Ernst's life.

"_Good afternoon, gentlemen"_

The Rektor's voice had been calm, and cold. Ernst was practically trembling under his gaze. Hanschen, however, seemed almost an impeccable mirror image of the teacher.

"_Herr Sonnenstich told me about what happened. Who is responsible?"_

God, that silence. It was a silence that made the air tremble. It still haunted him.

"_Herr Rilow? Herr Robel? One of you answer me! Who is responsible?"_

"_I am, Rektor"_

How Hanschen had been so calm as he said those words, Ernst would never know. He had just sat in his chair, completely at east, betraying no emotion.

"_Hanschen Rilow. I should have known. Attacking an innocent boy in such a perverse way could only be you, couldn't it?"_

The Rektor's voice had been so full of a self-satisfied sneer. Hanschen just raised his eyebrows, challenging him. The Rektor had snarled, and turned dismissively to Ernst.

"_Herr Robel, you are excused"_

Ernst had shakily stood up, under the watchful glare of Herr Sonnenstich, and glanced to the other boy for reassurance. Hanschen didn't look up, just kept up the calm stare.

And that's when the first mistake was made.

That was when Ernst had turned and left the room.

Looking back, it was an idiotic thing to do. He had thought that Hanschen could look after himself, that he wasn't needed, although there was a selfish part of him, no matter how he tried to ignore it, that insisted that he'd left so as to not get into trouble. Even now, Ernst could feel the stinging bile of tears uprising behind his eyes.

He'd gone back to class, of course, but there had been no Hanschen with him, and people had asked questions that he couldn't answer. He had been quite shell-shocked. His hands had trembled the whole way through History. And everybody had been confused when he excused himself from going up to the woods, and went home instead. He had sat at his desk, and tried to focus on Latin homework, telling himself all the time that Hanschen was fine, he was alright, everything would be well.

The letters came later. There were two, both hand posted, which was odd, considering that everyone in the town was so affable with each other that they felt no need to send each other letters. It had surprised him even more that one of them was addressed for him, in spiralling handwriting that he instantly recognised. He had run up to his room, and ripped open the envelope, and read the letter hungrily. But then his father had called him downstairs, and he had to drop it quickly.

"_Yes, father?"_

"_I have just received a letter from the Rektor of your school…"_

His father had spared no insults towards his son, and his mother's face had contorted in disgust as she read the letter for herself. Ernst, afterwards, had retreated to his room to cry softly to himself, at his stupidity. When he tried to leave the house later, his father had barred him, snapped a little more abuse at his son, and banished him upstairs. For the rest of the evening, all Ernst could think about was Hanschen, alone in the vineyard, waiting for him, only for him to never come.

The next day, he had gone back to school, but Hanschen did not, and the rest of the children avoided him like the plague, saying nothing, but letting their silence judge him instead. Gossip spread fast. Parents told their children not to speak to "that awful, sick Robel child", and eventually, the town stopped as well. The Rilows quietly fled the town, his father had escaped to the open arms of a young woman in Berlin, and his mother had gradually become more ill and hateful as the town's mournful gaze twisted her mind.

Of course, the rumours had stopped. They would have had to, one day. And Ernst had slowly faded into the background. But then Klaus came along, and everything had been complicated once again.

Ernst was noiseless as the tears ran softly, caressing his cheeks. The beech tree's dusty shadow was slowly growing longer as the yellow sun slowly descended over the hill, and the air was beginning to cool. He and Hanschen had flown to high, and, just like Daedalus and Icarus, they had both burnt their wings.

His hand tensed, and the blade of grass he had been playing with broke.

He would give anything, right now, to go back to childhood and spend the rest of his life playing Pirates or Kings And Queens with his old friends. He'd never really grown up, if he was honest. Ever since then, he was stuck in his fifteen year old frame, never ageing, but never getting any younger. He could easily be the boy lost in time and space and Hanschen Rilow's rough, watery eyes. But he wasn't. He was twenty-five.

Ernst stood up, and brushed the leaves and twigs and dirt off his clothes. The brilliant blue of the earlier sky was slowly leaking into the underlying darkness, and the shadows were growing more menacing. They used to think that as long as they were in the vineyard, they were safe, and nobody could touch them, and nobody could draw them apart. But life doesn't work like that.

"_It's getting dark, Hanschen"_

"_And? Your point being?"_

"_We ought to get home, hadn't we?"_

_The boy groaned lazily, throwing an arm over his face._

"_Oh, just relax. Nobody knows we're up here"_

"_Yes, but…th-the Latin recital…"_

"_Dulcum et decorum est pro patria mori…oh, something else after that. I forget"_

"_How can you be so careless? Herr Sonnenstich will have your head!"_

"_Who cares? There's time for Latin, Ernst, and there's time for other things. Let me just focus on the other things for today…"_

"_Well, I'm going home"_

"_No you aren't"_

"_Yes I am! Who are you to say I am not?"_

"_Because you always say you are and you never do. I'm more important, and we both know it"_

_Ernst sighed, and lay back down, resting his head gently on Hanschen's chest, listening to the soft rise and fall of his breathing._

Ernst blinked away soft tears, and took another look at the vineyard, before slipping quietly under the fence and down the path that led to home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note-****Thanks for being so patient with my slightly shoddy chapters and infrequent updates! Has anybody else noticed that the tunes for "Those You've Known" and "All That's Known" are the same, or is that fairly common knowledge between SA fans and just me being Newbie-ish?**

It was two days until Ernst saw Klaus Schittmann again, and during that time he had barely spoken a word. He didn't dare to venture outside the house to the safe cold of the train tracks, in case he had the misfortune to bump into Klaus, which he was sure would render him to collapse. Thus, the two days were spent creeping around the dusty house, trying not to wake up his mother and cursing his lack of cleaning knowledge. The house, as large and empty as it seemed was filthy, and the maid had quickly scarpered a short while after Frau Robel had been taken ill. Sometimes Ernst thought it one of his biggest regrets that he hadn't persuaded her to stay on. But then he always remembered that there were bigger regrets than that, and that he hadn't been up to much then anyway.

When he eventually decided to chance leaving the house on Wednesday, it was a lot later than he usually did, and his mother consequently managed to screech a few words before he left, which he wearing answered with random, automatic agreements before escaping outside to the crisp sting of fresh air on his hot skin. He stopped outside his house, breathing in the familiar taste, and sighed with relief, letting a small smile cross his face. The street, although it was already late morning, was completely empty, save for the faint padding of the Brauer's ginger cat, Adelina. Ernst bent down to stoke her, and she immediately raised her head to his touch, purring contentedly.

"_I'm like…the pussycat. I just skim off the cream…"_

Ernst's hand twitched suddenly, and Adelina started in reflex and quickly scampered off. Ernst stood up, and watched her run, before turning in the opposite direction.

He took the route he had always taken, keeping to the quieter streets, away from the prying eyes of the village center, the church and the schoolyard. It was routine, and if he had been asked to take it blindfolded, he probably would have managed it. He liked these old habits of his. Adventure was for people like Melchior Gabor and Hanschen, not for him. In any other given circumstances, he would be living out a quiet life in which everything was the same as yesterday. But fate had a custom of meddling with simplicity. He turned a corner, and passed a familiar row of houses, and a patch of grass tickled his ankle as he came out into the two adjoining meadows that ran alongside The Long Mile, and far away beyond. He stepped onto the dirt road, and slipped his hands in his pockets.

There was nobody on the road, as barely anyone frequented it anyway, but as Ernst got further along the pathway and closer to the sleepy, early-morning sounds of the other side of the town. The quick paces of stiff shoes, the swish of coats, the laughter and cries of people hurrying to-and-fro, and the heavy underlying sound of the Hammermier, drawing in as the hour drew to eleven. Suddenly, the dust of the track thinned, and became stone, and then he was walking through the streets of the other side of the village.

He paused for a moment in the middle of the street, and wondered where to go to next. The train tracks were already out. He didn't feel like going there just yet. Frau Koehler's, maybe…but, no; she would keep on asking him about Klaus. He had no money for the small group of shops along the main street, and yet he couldn't turn back…

"Ernst!"

Ernst turned around slowly, without surprise.

"Good morning, Klaus" he muttered tiredly. It was almost as if he couldn't escape. Wherever he went, Klaus was right behind him, on his tail, being friendly and jovial and reminding him far too much of everything.

"Well, well. It seems we meet again" Klaus grinned broadly. Ernst frowned. Hanschen would never smile like that, so full of life and energy. Klaus cocked his head in confusion at Ernst's suddenly dark mood, and Ernst caught himself, and quickly squinted, pretending the sun was in his eyes.

"Yes, it seems we do" he replied quietly.

"You retreated for a few days" Klaus observed.

"I-I was ill" Ernst retorted, a little coldly. Klaus nodded sympathetically. A small gust of wind brushed past teasingly, warm and playful.

"Have you any plans?" Klaus said brightly. Ernst blinked. If he were to nod, and pretend to go somewhere, then he would be able to leave his companion behind. But, then again, he did not have anywhere to go where he would not be easily found, and probably confronted, apart from home, and he was certainly not spending another day rattling around in the empty house with his mother. And besides, he did not abhor spending time with Klaus as much as he should. If anything, he found him rather fascinating. So he shook his head, and watched with a heavy heart as Klaus's face lit up like a candle.

"Oh, how wonderful!" his companion – he could not bear to call him a friend yet – said. "Maybe you could show me around the village. I must admit, I have not spent so much time on the other side apart from at the Wechsler's, and as lovely as they are for renting our their home to tourists, they are frightful bores! I have heard there is a lovely vineyard around here somewhere, I would love to go and visit it"

Ernst froze in terror.

"No!" he yelled. Klaus shot him a curious look. "I mean, there is truly nothing worth seeing on that side, and the vineyard is out of use this time of year" he quickly covered. Klaus's expression took an odd form that Ernst had never seen before, a sort of sadness. Was he…no, he couldn't be disappointed. But then his eyes took on a twinkle of merriment and amusement, and Ernst could feel his tense body relaxing with relief.

"What a pity. But then, you do know this town far better then I do. Why, I can barely venture down the street without getting lost" Klaus chuckled. He patted Ernst's shoulder with a firm yet friendly hand. "So, where to, good man?"

Ernst almost burst out laughing. He could certainly never imagine Hanschen speaking in this sort of dialect. Not the Hanschen he knew, anyway.

"I, well…" he stuttered, quickly stifling his giggle as Klaus's inquisitive gaze bore into him. "It-it rather depends, I suppose, o-on where you wish to go"

Klaus furrowed his eyebrows, blue eyes searching.

"I mean, it is such a s-small town" Ernst carried on, cursing the tremor in his voice to himself. "A-and there is not m-much to see. Living here is a fairly meager ex-existence"

"But you live here" Klaus said, so quietly that Ernst wondered if his companion hadn't meant for him to hear it. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose I have never had the chance to escape" he muttered. For a split second there was silence, interrupted only by the people passing them on the pavement. Then the moment faded, and Klaus smiled again.

"Then we shall just have to explore" he said. "And maybe you will learn to love your home again"

Ernst highly doubted that.

But much as it pained him greatly to say it, the day that followed was not bad. In fact, he would even go so far as to say that Klaus was exceptionally good company. He was interesting, and interested, which was something Ernst hadn't come across in a very long time. During the day, he managed to pick out a few facts about his acquaintance. Klaus, it seemed, had been born and bred in Berlin, but had decided to spend some time in the country before making anything of his life. He enjoyed classics, and had once tried to study law before realizing that he was not intelligent enough for the subject. But the most interesting thing Ernst discovered was that Klaus was, as far as he could tell, a perfectly normal person. He was civil, and kind, and didn't probe Ernst for information he was unwilling to give. He never asked about Hanschen. Not once. In fact, Ernst almost found himself forgetting Hanschen, instead just allowing himself to fall into kind words and smiles that were not smirks. But he always caught himself. And when they had parted ways, and said cheerful farewells, Ernst realized that he was missing the company of the young man, and that he indeed was looking forward to maybe seeing him tomorrow. He had not had friendship like this in a long time, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like. But now, being with someone like Klaus, he felt the familiar feelings all wash back.

It was as he sat on his front porch, his knees hugged to his chest, pausing to look at the fading daylight, that he really began to think about things. There was Klaus. Klaus, the kind and the generous, who was good company and funny and had a sort of charisma that shone, and Ernst liked him for a friend. And Klaus was so very real, so vibrant; he stood out like a beech amongst vines. And then there was Hanschen. Hanschen, who had gone, simply vanished into the air like a sprite. Hanschen who was not here, who sometimes seemed as unreal to Ernst as childhood fantasies, who was present in his mind all the time but yet not solid, and not real, and not there.

What if Hanschen had never been there at all?

Ernst quickly shook his head. No, that was absurd, of course Hanschen existed. It was just that…well, that Hanschen was past, and Klaus was present. And that maybe it was time he stopped trying to find similarities in the two, and accepted that they were two different people, for all their identical looks. Maybe he should just decide that Hanschen was not coming back. But Klaus already had.

Maybe he should just stop differentiating. Klaus Schittmann and Hanschen Rilow. They were separate things. It could be that the appearances were purely coincidental, as fanciful as that seemed, and that they were completely different people.

With those thoughts lingering between his lips, Ernst took himself off to bed.

When he awoke the next morning, the air was still, and soundless. It was early. He pulled on some clothes, and quietly left the house, without waking his snoring mother. He made his way through the still-dreaming town. He turned a corner, and passed a familiar row of houses, and a patch of grass tickled his ankle as he came out into the two adjoining meadows that ran alongside The Long Mile, and far away beyond.

There was nobody on the road, as barely anyone frequented it anyway, but as Ernst got further along the pathway and closer to the sleepy, early-morning sounds of the other side of the town. Suddenly, the dust of the track thinned, and became stone, and then he was walking through the streets of the other side of the village.

And then he stopped.

In the window of Frau Koehler's café sat Klaus. He was drinking a coffee, and looking out on the street. Ernst felt his fist clench, and his cheeks grow hot. What was Klaus doing there? What was he doing in _his _seat? The jealously that was bubbling up inside him was completely irrational, and unexplainable, but all he knew was that when Klaus noticed him and waved, he turned, and began to quickly stride away.

"Ernst? Hey, wait, Ernst!"

And then, Ernst ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note-****Hello. This author has Swine Flu, so therefore more time to write! Only five chapters left, I can't believe it…**

Ernst had never been athletic at school. He was too small for most things, his body uncoordinated and out of proportion. He could neither catch not throw a ball very well, and he'd never dared learn how to swim. But running: now there was something he could do very well. He was nimble, and quick, and could manage to get a fair distance without tripping over his own feet or slipping. Of course, he'd never mentioned this to any classmates, anxious about being nominated for teams he was sure he'd fail. In fact, he'd managed to keep the whole thing a rather well-kept secret. But when he wanted to run, he would run fast and far, and as his feet pounded down the long mile, he was oddly pleased with himself for knowing that even Klaus wouldn't be able to catch him.

"Ernst! _Ernst_!"

He ignored Klaus's calls, the pace of his breath quickening as an ache began to spread through his legs. But still he kept running, even when the yells behind him began to fade a little. He suddenly switched, and charged up the beginnings of the slope. He stumbled on through the wiry grass of the hill, and slipped under the black metal of the gate. It seemed to him that the weeds grabbed at his trousers and tried to make him slip, but on he ran until he collapsed at the foot of the beech tree, and buried his face in his hands to level his breathing. It wasn't long before he heard the soft crunch of footsteps treading on dead leaves. Then they stopped. Ernst didn't look up. For a moment there was silence.

"Ernst…"

"God, you couldn't just leave it, could you?" Ernst muttered, so quietly the words were almost lost in the wind. "I wasn't happy, but I was coping. I was so close to moving on. And then…and then you came here, following me around and just…just always being there. Why did you even come here in the first place? Why would anyone _want _to come to this horrible town? And you couldn't just leave me alone, and that's all I want, all I ask for. So please, I…I…you can't just march in here and change everything, you…"

He trailed off. The whole vineyard seemed perfectly still. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands were trembling. The kitten had finally learnt to use his claws.

"You haven't changed a bit"

Ernst stiffened. That voice…that wasn't Klaus.

"W-what?"

"Ten years…" the voice mused. "And still exactly the same"

No, it certainly wasn't Klaus. The voice was cold, yet it seemed like a sly smile hid behind it, a smile that was always there. Ernst could see that smile in his mind's eye; the corners of thin lips drawn up a little; see the deep blue eyes that sparkled with dry wit and casual observation. And that wasn't Klaus.

"I didn't even expect you to still be here" the strange voice continued, pressing down firmly on the words as they were spoken. "But there you were…how strange"

Ernst didn't look up, his face frozen in a mask of shock. He couldn't speak. His throat was clenching so tightly he was becoming dangerously close to not being able to breathe, and so any words he might have spoken were fluttering around like birds caged in his brain. His mouth was dry, too dry, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper over his tongue.

"Oh, come now, speak, please, the tension is honestly killing me"

"Wh-who…who are you?"

There was a small, deep laugh.

"Oh dear. Forgotten already? It can't have been so long"

"I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant, Ernst"

There was a slight creak, and Ernst felt the earth move beneath him as the person sat down a short way off. The voice had been gentler just then. There was a silence. It wasn't awkward, as it might have been. There were no sounds from the village below, and no birds to populate this barren bit of land. There was only the wind whipping through their hair and the rustling of the leaves on the old beech tree.

"Where did you go?"

The voice didn't reply, and Ernst felt the cool wind on his warming face.

"After that day, I mean" he continued hastily. "What happened?"

"I had to go" the voice replied quietly, after another long, echoing pause. "They sent me away. Have you ever heard of a place called St. Cyprian's?"

"No" Ernst replied.

"It's a place – I suppose you could call it a hospital – founded to provide punishment and conversion for those found fornicating with…with other men"

There was a hitch in the voice that Ernst heard, and he closed his eyes momentarily.

"Dear God…"

"Yes. It's a horrible place. I was there for…about six years"

"How did you get out?"

"I bade my time, and was…well, I guess one could say I was released on parole" the voice said, with a wry half-laugh at the end.

"Then what happened?" Ernst muttered, looking at his shoes.

"I went to Berlin" the voice said simply, as if the sentence was equipped with a nonchalant shrug. "But as Klaus Schittmann. I invented an entirely new persona. One who wasn't anything to do with what I left behind"

"So why did you come back?"

The voice sighed. "I don't really know. It was impulsive. I just wanted to come home. I didn't know you would still be here"

"Where did you think I would be?" Ernst muttered dryly.

"Who knows? I just supposed you would have gone. Everybody else did"

"Yes. But…why now? Why didn't you come back before?"

"I thought there was nothing to come back to. My parents disowned me, I had no friends, and the whole town thought I had been corrupted by the devil…"

"I know the feeling"

"I'm sure you do. But I came back, and there you were, and you hadn't changed a bit. I tried to ignore it, but Klaus was so intrigued by you, he had to know who you were"

Ernst shivered a little at the use of separation. They were two people, then.

"I saw Melchior Gabor" the voice continued. It sounded distant, and far away. "In Berlin. Do you remember him? He told me so much…all he'd gone through. Did you know he lost a lover, a best friend and a child all in one go?"

We went through a lot too, Ernst thought.

"No. No, I didn't" he said.

The voice was silent, contemplating, and Ernst realised that this was how he must seem to other people whenever he lost himself in a memory.

"Why did you have to pretend to be Klaus to me?" he asked. He hadn't even meant to say the words out loud. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

"I had to separate myself from you, Ernst. I couldn't…I couldn't let you know it was me. I have a new life now, which I built myself. You weren't meant to be part of that life"

"So why are you telling me now?"

"Oh, honestly, I don't know"

There was silence once more. A small breeze blew over the vineyard, disturbing the still air, and then petered out, as if embarrassed at doing something wrong. The leaves crackled a little, and then were still. A lone bird sang a melancholy song.

"So, what happens now?" Ernst muttered. "What do we do?"

"Nothing" the voice said firmly.

"W-what?"

"We will do nothing. There is nothing more between us, and there never was"

"But-"

"Do you think that place didn't work, that I spent six years there for nothing? What we were doing was wrong, Ernst. It's a sin. It's an abomination. It means eternal damnation"

"Wait-"

"We never felt anything for each other apart from the temptation the devil laid out for us. There cannot be love between men. It isn't right"

The words were spoken with force. They sounded as if they were being recited from memory, like Latin. But still, they were truthful.

"That part of me is dead, Ernst. The old me is long gone. I am Klaus Schittmann now"

"No…no, you can't…"

"Just watch me" the voice snapped. Then it sighed, and became calmer. "I'm sorry Ernst. But forget me. Move on, marry a village girl, become a parson, like you wanted"

"I don't want that anymore. All I want is…"

"But you can't have it" the voice said, and it sounded sad. There was a short pause in which Ernst tried futilely to hold back his tears before it spoke again. "I waited for you, you know. That day. I sat in this spot for hours, but you never came. I thought you didn't want to see me anymore. And when I went home they had arranged a cab to take me"

"I wasn't allowed out" Ernst whispered through the thin tears that dropped carefully off his eyelashes. "My father got a letter, and he wouldn't let me…"

He trailed off, feeling the silence fumble at the body a short distance away.

"Do you remember…" the voice said thoughtfully. "The first time we came here? And I said that in thirty years time that night would seem unbelievably beautiful? Well, it's only been ten, but I feel that already"

There was a sound as the person hauled themselves to their feet. Ernst buried his face in between his knees, wrapping his hands over his head. Then he looked up. Hanschen looked down at him as well, his face regretful, his eyes so weary. He reached out, and gently smoothed down Ernst's hair. Ernst didn't even bother to wipe away the tears that reddened his cheeks and made his gasp for breath.

"I will see you again, Ernst Robel" Hanschen said. "But as Klaus Schittman"

"And in the meantime?" Ernst choked out, as he had done so many years ago.

"Forget me" Hanschen said. And then he turned, and made his way down the dirt path that led down the hill. Ernst leant back against the beech tree, and he cried, and he cried.

**Note-Ok, so Hanschen's a little OOC. I apologise. But I couldn't have him making sarcastic comments in such a serious conversation, could I?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Note-****I know I said I'd update once a week, but S-Flu (or Pig Sniffles, as I call it. It makes the whole experience less menacing) has made me impatient. Thanks for your lovely reviews and thank you even more for all the get-wells I got! You are all lovely people! And I have to ask, does anybody know who Robert is, as his name is mentioned on the character list? Anyway, right, on with the story…**

Ernst leant back on the hard mattress of his bed, wanting to feel his spine, to know that his bones would not break if he stood. The air in his chest seemed to be exploding with each heartbeat, until he felt like he was being punched over and over again. It would be a relief if his heart burst, he thought. Then he might feel nothing at all, feel nothing ever again. His eyes burnt, the lids stained crimson with moisture that ran regularly, like clockwork, down his swollen face. He didn't make a sound. He hadn't done since he wearily pushed open the door a few hours ago, with his joints aching and threatening to collapse underneath him. He wanted nothing more than to sink backwards into the stiff material of his bed, to be encased and fossilised in warmth and softness forever. Nobody would be able to find him there, not if they searched for a hundred years.

A small moan emitted from his throat as he rolled over, his trembling hands clenching the duvet desperately, his cheek pressed into the pillow. He curled up into a small ball, crushing his knees to his stomach, and screwed his eyes shut. The tears still leaked through, though.

"Ernst?" came a distant cry from the other end of the hallway. Ernst sat up, and sighed.

"Coming, mama…" he called back, his voice hoarse and dry. He swung his legs slowly off the bed, and tried to stand up without his legs betraying him. For a moment, his vision swam, and he blinked ferociously a few times before he was sure he could walk without toppling over. He left his room, and crossed the hall to the bathroom. He switched on the light, and studied his face in the mirror for a moment, calmly, before turning on the sink taps and splashing his face with cold water. He gasped, and quickly screwed the flow of water shut before towelling his face dry. At least now he could at least pass for looking normal. He left the bathroom, and walked a few paces to his mother's shut door. He paused for a moment, then knocked twice, and pushed open the door.

His mother was, as always, sitting up in bed regarding him with a suspicious eye, hunched over crookedly. The room smelt faintly of decay, and a dirty dinner tray sat next to her bed from last night. Ernst shut the door behind him, and looked at his mother. There was a powerful, struggled silence before Frau Robel spoke.

"You look horrible" she spat coarsely, her body dry from lack of fluids. "Are you ill?"

"No, mama" Ernst muttered, fighting to keep his voice from wavering.

"Pity…" his mother said to herself. Then she gasped, and bent over, her body racked with coughs that shook her thin frame. Ernst blinked, his mouth open with concern. Then she stopped, quivering, and looked up at him again.

"Mama, you need to see a doctor" Ernst said. "Please let me call Dr. Metzger…"

"You will do no such thing!" his mother snapped.

"You're getting worse by the day"

"I will not see him, you hear? Did you know he killed that slut Wendla Bergmann and her bastard child?" Frau Robel asked. Ernst was struck by the look of immense glee in her face, and his heart wrenched at the thought of poor, innocent Wendla being called a slut by a group of snobbish women around a coffee table, his mother included.

"No, mama, I did not know that"

"Well, he did. Everybody knows it. It was the scandal of the century. Well, until you, of course" his mother replied snidely, a twisted grimace spreading across her face.

"Yes…but, mama, if not him then you must see somebody!"

"I have no obligation to"

"I'm still your son!" Ernst cried out. "And I care for you. Please"

Frau Robel looked him up and down in disgust.

"You're no son of mine" she growled. "Get out"

Ernst saw the fire in his mother's eyes, and he did exactly as he was told. He left, and quietly shut the door behind him. He sighed, resting his back on the smooth wood, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest. He rested a cool palm on his sweating forehead, and ran it through his hair. After a short while, he stood up, and crept quietly downstairs as his mother's hacking coughs slipped into the still atmosphere and slowly faded away.

It was then Ernst noticed the letter on the doormat, and his heart froze. It was addressed to him, his name printed in firm, thick capitals, and when he turned the envelope over in his hands, it was sealed with crimson candle wax at the back. His hands shaking enough to intimidate him into dropping the paper, he tried to breathe evenly as he prized away the wax with ragged fingernails. The envelope fell away to reveal a letter, written in the same straight hand that was so unlike Hanschen's swirls and loops. Ernst sighed in relief.

_Dear Ernst Robel. You have been invited to attend the matrimony of Anna and Georg. Please come to the church of St. Mary at midday on Saturday. Yours, Georg Zirschnitz._

The letter was short, but underneath was another paragraph, in different handwriting.

_Hello, Ernst. I said I would invite you, didn't I? It took time to persuade Georg, but as I'm sure you know, I can be very persuasive. After all, I forced you to agree to attend, did I not? I hope you still intend to come. It would mean a lot to me. You know, Otto will be coming down from Frankfurt with his children, isn't that something? And Martha says she is really looking forward to seeing you again. But, anyway, it will be a wonderful occasion, and I would really love for you to come along, for old times' sakes. And no excuses, Ernst! I must warn you, if you aren't there by midday I promise to march down to your house in my wedding dress and drag you there myself. Yours faithfully, Anna._

Ernst sighed, and a small smile stretched over his face. If he hadn't spent a good part of the day bathing in sadness, he may have managed a laugh. Still, even if Hanschen knew Anna, he was fairly sure that Klaus didn't, so maybe he would be able to avoid him there. If he kept avoiding him, the pursue have to stop eventually, wouldn't it? And then maybe things would go back to normal, life would go back to the way it was, and he could try to move on again, even if he would have to start from scratch now. So yes, maybe it would actually do him good to go to Anna's wedding. Maybe he could gather up the courage to speak to his old acquaintances again, and then perhaps they would remember him before that time. Or, then again, perhaps they would carry on shunning him. It didn't matter, in any case. He had his thoughts, and he had himself, and now he had Anna.

He dropped the letter back on the doormat, and unlocked the front door. The cold breeze hit him, reminding him it was still March, and he stepped out onto the front porch, and shut the door behind him. The sky was watery, a deep yet pastel blue, showing him the beginnings of a long evening. It wouldn't rain, though, not for a while, not after that storm they had last week. Good lord, it had been last week when he first saw Klaus, but it felt like it had been so much longer yet so much shorter at the same time. Time was really flying, passing him by with a quick caress of its wing on his cheek. And Anna's wedding was only in three days. Time is a funny thing, Ernst thought. It can make ten years seem like thirty, or it can make a week seem like a few seconds.

He took a seat, cross-legged on the wood, and contemplated calling a doctor for his mother. She really was ill, and as much as they detested each other, he still had an instinct to protect her. But, then again, she didn't want help, and she wouldn't appreciate him getting it for her. She had never appreciated much.

_Did you know he lost a lover, a best friend and a child all in one go?_

_Did you know he killed that slut Wendla Bergmann and her bastard child?_

Oh. Now he understood.

In fairness, he had replied no to both questions because he didn't know much about all that. He knew that Melchior had been sent to a reformatory regarding unruly behavior and the suicide of Moritz Steifel. He knew that Wendla had died a short while later, of amnesia – or was it anemia, he wasn't very good with illnesses – and that had been the rumors circling the town for a good while. Nobody ever told him anything about it, that they were connected, and he didn't really mind that much, he was too preoccupied with his newly-found love for Hanschen. But it all made sense, now.

"Well, good afternoon, Ernst!"

Ernst's hands tightened into fists, and he didn't look up. "Hello"

"Good to see you. I lost you this morning. What was that all about?"

"I…I'd remembered something…"

It was a terribly feeble excuse, but Klaus seemed very happy with it.

"Ah…Say, I didn't know you lived here"

"Yes. Since I was young" Ernst continued, willing "Klauschen" to just go, to just leave him alone! Surely it wasn't too much to ask.

"Oh, good!" said Klaus. "Well, I'm afraid I must take my leave"

Ernst looked up. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"I have arranged to meet a new acquaintance in the other side of town. Dominik Gerber, do you know him? Lovely man"

"I can't say I do" Ernst half-lied. He knew of Dominik, but had never spoken to him, not had the desire to. He was a rat-like boy who spent a great deal of time preening.

"Well, I am going to meet him now. I shall not be staying long. My train returns to Berlin on Sunday"

Ernst looked up in disbelief.

"Yes, I know, strange isn't it? It's only been a week yet I already feel like I've spent half of my life in this village"

Ernst almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the sentence, but his face muscles were tensed so tightly they would not allow him to do so.

"You're-…you're leaving?"

"Yes, on Sunday. Terrible shame, I would stay longer if I could. But duty calls!"

Ernst nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I-I suppose it does"

Klaus smiled, a little awkwardly, and rocked backward on his heels. "Well, I really must be off. It was great to see you again. I may call on you before the week is out"

"I hope you do" Ernst muttered. And then, with a wave, Klaus turned and hurried off. Ernst frowned, and leant back against the wall. He laughed nervously. This had quite possibly been the strangest day he had ever experienced. He turned his head, and watched Klaus's blonde hair retreat into the lengthening shadows. When the colour had finally been swallowed by the evening, he hauled himself upright, and pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind him, cutting him off once again from the world outside.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note-****So, so sorry for the continuity error! I accidentally went back a month! Just pretend that never happened! It's still April, people! In the story anyway…Did you know that the official London SA mascot is a rubber duck called Bobby Mahler? I can imagine the girls laughing backstage at "Bobby Mahler, he's the best"**

Ironically, it was a beautiful and warm day when Ernst buried his mother. He was rather glad of that, he'd never liked the idea of rain at funerals. It made the whole seem rather false, in a strange sort of way, the assumption that the weather coordinated with emotion, as if they were not entirely separate things.

He hadn't known immediately. In fact, he felt quite guilty that he hadn't even noticed for quite a while into the day that she wasn't screaming at him like normal. When he eventually ventured to her room to check on her, he still thought that she was sleeping. But she wasn't. When she slept, her face still took on a sort of rigid scowl, as if she was angry with her dreams as well, but in death she looked more peaceful than she had done for a very long time. He had stood in the doorway, and watched her, knowing that she was dead, and not feeling anything apart from a little shame because of it. He stood and watched her for a long time, not expecting her to wake up. He didn't shake her, or cry, or do any of the things that he was sure he was meant to do. He just stood, and watched, and then calmly sighed and went downstairs to fetch an undertaker.

One could hardly call it a funeral. The guests had consisted of Ernst, an uncomfortable-looking vicar, a few gossipy aunts who wouldn't give their nephew the time of day, and his father, who had taken the train from Berlin and sat at the opposite side of the church, regarding his son suspiciously from the corner of his eye. It was a short affair, too. Frau Robel was buried with no epitaph on her grave, no ceremony, and a short-lived service in which the vicar read a quick Bible passage and then shuffled around anxiously for a while. Herr Robel escaped shortly afterwards, back to a woman in Berlin with black hair and painted red lips, completely disregarding all promised obligations to plan out a last will and testament for his deceased wife. His mother, apparently, hadn't bothered to write one, and once the aunts heard this, they rapidly showed themselves out as well.

Ernst felt strange and out of place in an empty church. He hadn't been in one since he was fifteen, and the way the accusing glare of the Virgin Mary idol bore down on him was strangely chilling, and he almost felt embarrassed. He shifted a little nervously, looking around himself. In days gone past, this place was his sanctuary. He'd known all his hymns and psalms off by heart. He could practically recite every single prayer backwards. He'd even been a choir-boy until his voice got too deep. He used to think that as long as he was on the pathway of God that things would be alright. But then he thought that if God was as forgiving as he was supposed to be, why did he condemn so much? If there was love and forgiveness in heaven, then why did he have to be a sinner? And then he realised that those weren't God's words. The damnations were those of the pastors and the preachers who manipulated His words to their bidding.

Hanschen had taught him that.

Hanschen had taught him a lot of things.

Ernst sighed, and swung his feet back and forth, making sure they didn't kick the pews and send a hollow, wooden noise echoing through the silence of the church. He didn't wish to disturb the silence. Some silences needed breaking, but this one was just so peaceful that he wished it was eternal. But, then again, he would have gone mad if he had to spend his entire life in a silent church.

He sighed. He was sure he should be lamenting over his mother's demise, or at least pondering it. But he couldn't, somehow. It wasn't as if he was happy about it, because he wasn't. He was sad for her, sad that her ill health had sped her life along rather too quickly, and that she probably hadn't died in one of the happiest moods of her life. But, then again, he knew that she had been willing to die on her own terms, and that was exactly what she had done. Dust to dust and ashes to ashes, she may be in the eternal arms of the Lord now, but she was still dead, and that was that. Of course, if he could have clicked his fingers and have her return to life, he would have. But he couldn't.

Ernst looked up around the church. A small flock was birds were perched on the rafters high above, their heads cocked gently to one side, looking down at him in curiosity. He smiled to himself. In two days, Anna would be having her wedding here, and he was invited, and he was certainly going. He wouldn't have missed it for the world. It was quite spectacular, really. Here Anna was to be married, and here his mother had been placed in the ground. So separate, those ceremonies. Why in the same place?

He swivelled his body around, hoisted his legs up onto the pew, and lay down. The solid yet smooth and polished wood pressed stiffly against his back. He rested his hands on his stomach, and listened to the soft rise and fall of his breathing, the dull throb of his pulsating heart. It was probably sacrilege, somewhere along the line, to put one's feet on the bench of a holy place, but Ernst didn't really care all that much. If Hell was real, he was going to be sent there for far worse deeds than dirtying a slab of wood.

He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe he could just lie here for a little bit, and kill some time; let himself relax. Forget things. Let all the thoughts cramming and jostling for room in his head breathe and flow…

But he couldn't, because the hot air in the church was stifling, and he wasn't sure how long he could stay there without suffocating. He sat up, slid his legs off the pew, and took a tentative stand. The blood rushed from his head, and he swayed a little. He blinked, hard, and breathed slowly. Then he turned, and quickly left the church.

The grass outside was soft and warm as the sun soaked through the earth. Ernst squinted as he looked up at the blueness of the sky, the day licking his skin. This was a day for madness, the sort of day when everything felt too perfect. He didn't mind, though. He loved these sorts of days, even if his mother was gone now. The only trouble was, he didn't really know what he was going to do with himself now. For ten years, his life had consisted of facing everything in his past that he could possibly face. He hadn't spent too much time doting on his mother, and he did feel a little guilty for that, but she still had been a part of his life. And now he didn't know where to go.

He sat by her gravestone. It wasn't anything special, just a plain one with her name inscribed on, compared to some of the lavish angels that adorned some sites. It was the sort of tablet that would, in a few years, undoubtedly become overgrown with weeds, and would eventually fade away and be eroded into a small lump of rock. It would stay unkempt forever, overlooked by nature itself. His mother wouldn't have liked that, but what could she possibly say now, from beyond the grave?

Ernst was tempted to lie down and meld himself with the earth, but he didn't. The townspeople thought him strange enough as it was, without him sending of signs that would convince them that he was completely mad.

"Ernst? What are you doing here?"

The voice was startled and harsh, and Ernst didn't recognise it. But when he looked up, his heart sunk. It was strange, though. Klaus's eyes were wild and almost angry, and he looked like a boy who had been caught stealing cake from the kitchen. It was most unlike his usual temperance and pleasant mood.

"My mother died earlier" Ernst replied blandly. "So I might ask of you the same thing"

For a moment, Klaus looked confused, and he didn't move. But then his shoulders relaxed as he managed to get a grip over himself, and he offered a meek smile.

"My goodness! How terrible. I offer my humblest condolences" he said, and Ernst held his gaze levelly. "I am sure she was a lovely woman-"

"Not really" Ernst said, turning back to the stone. There was a pause.

"O-Oh?" Klaus said. "I…I'm…"

"Don't take this the wrong way. She was my mother, and I loved her dearly. However, that doesn't mean I had to like her. She was a rather unpleasant woman"

Ernst was surprised at how easily he managed to slip his mother into the past tense. It was a rather strange, unfamiliar feeling. But he was already used to it.

"Ah, well…"

It was obvious Klaus had no idea what to say, and Ernst almost smiled at that. He had completely caught his friend off guard. . It was incredible how discomposed Klaus was. It was as if he carefully planned out a speech for everywhere he went, for everyone he talked to, but this time he hadn't expected anyone to be here, and therefore hadn't thought he would need any words to say to them.

"What brings you here, might I ask? You have no relatives here, do you not?"

"Well, no…I was just planning to look around, before I leave"

"Oh, of course, you depart on Sunday, don't you?"

"Yes. It really is a terrible shame. I was really hoping to stay for longer. It is such a lovely place, and there really are some wonderful people here. But, I feel I have intruded too long on the Wechsler's. They are such a lovely couple, and I could quite happily eat their lovely food forever. But home calls, I suppose"

Ernst, once again, felt his breath catch in his throat. Surely this was his home.

"I suppose it does"

"I can't believe it's only been five days, can you? I feel like we have known each other for years and years"

"Yes"

"This town will be like a second home to me, now"

"Yes"

"You will have to give me your address so I can write"

"Yes" Ernst said, although he was sure that once Klaus left, he would never see him again. He would just vanish into the air, like smoke.

"Is something wrong, Ernst?"

Ernst looked up at the man, and he felt his heart wrench again.

"No…no, not at all. I shall miss you when you leave, though. You have been good company to me"

"And I shall miss you. And Dominik. And Gustaf Daecher. I have met some lovely people over this past week. I shall be sad to leave them"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I must leave now. Goodbye"

Ernst stood up, and left, not looking back once. The humid air buzzed around his ears. He would have to return to an empty house now, and figure out his future.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note****-Firstly, I'd like to apologise. I've been a little sloppy with punctuation and have been making some fairly obvious mistakes. I'm going back to my "one-a-week" posting, because it's Summer, so I've got lots on. But, anyway, I hope you enjoy the **_**penultimate**_** chapter! I'm sure your all getting really frustrated with Klaus (I know I am) so this chapter will hopefully make up. Ah, so much cheese I could drown…**

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?"

Ernst didn't take his eyes off Anna. He couldn't. She wasn't just beautiful; she was positively radiant, with her corn-coloured hair sparkling in the sunlight, and her face glowing with happiness. A broad, merry smile stretched across her face, making her eyes crinkle at the corners. She was surrounded by small children, all tugging at her wedding dress. She bent down, and hoisted the smallest one up in her arms. The child stuck its thumb in its mouth, wrapped its legs around her legs and nuzzled contentedly into her shoulder. The young woman laughed, and it was the sort of laugh that made everybody else around her want to smile.

"Yes, she does. She always does"

And didn't everyone know it? Georg was standing to one side, looking dazed and pale, with a ridiculous grin plastered all over his face, as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened but was damn pleased that it had happened to _him_. Otto, his best man, was standing next to him, laughing at his friend's expression. He raised his champagne flute in a small toast, and clapped his friend on the back. Over the other side of the courtyard, Thea rested against a tree, smiling dreamily on the reception like a well-wishing nymph and clutching tightly to the bouquet of blue flowers she had caught. Martha, who was still small and stocky, and didn't look as if she had aged a day since she was fifteen, was engaged in conversation with a pretty woman with long, copper curls.

"I didn't think you knew Anna" Ernst queried quietly.

"I don't" The reply came almost instantly.

"So why did you come here?"

The silence that followed made Ernst smile. He'd moved away from the large group, and was hovering around the outskirts of the square bit of land in front of the church, against a small bunch of tall trees. Nobody was looking at him for once; they were all too busy staring, transfixed, at Anna. He had some privacy, at least. In the midst of the people, Anna set the small child back down on the grass, and spun around, her dress flying around her ankles, and laughed a sound like a peal of bells.

"You're avoiding me, Ernst"

"Am I? I hadn't noticed"

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"It isn't to do with you, Klaus"

"Of course it is, seeing as I am the one being avoided"

"It's to do with somebody else entirely. You just happened to be wrapped up in it, that's all"

"How am I wrapped up in it? And what am I wrapped up in? Come, Ernst, you do speak in riddles sometimes!"

Ernst sighed in exasperation. All he came here to do was celebrate Anna's wedding peacefully, with no distractions. However, it seemed fate had, once again, come up with different plans for him. He didn't like the way this conversation was going. He was wishing for the ground to open and swallow him up, even though he knew that it would never happen. He just wanted for forget everything, just for this afternoon, so that he could celebrate with everyone else and let Anna's happiness seep into him, just a little.

"Please, what have I done wrong?"

"Nothing, Klaus. Just…just leave it, please"

"But you have been avoiding me and all I ask is why and you will not tell me!"

"We all have our secrets"

"That may be, Ernst, but-"

"Oh, Hanschen, please be quiet!"

Ernst's breath caught in his throat. Oh, God. This would not end well. Klaus, too, was silent, as if pondering. Then he spoke again, his tone gentler, less demanding.

"Is it something to do with…with Hanschen? I assure you, he is nothing to me, but whoever he is he is obviously something to you. A friend? Or-or a brother?"

"N-no…"

"But it is to do with him, is it not?"

"Yes, it is. Are you happy now?"

"No, because that still doesn't explain why you are avoiding me!"

Ernst suddenly had an almost irresistible urge to hit his head against a tree trunk. It was like arguing with a stubborn infant. He didn't say anything. He'd spent ten years being almost completely silent, and that was how he liked it, how he wanted it to stay. How could this person, shrouded in mystery, just come along and break the quiet he'd spent so long trying, no, striving to perfect? It wasn't right.

"Ernst? Please, talk to me…"

"Otto married Marianna Whelan, in the end. She finally returned his calls. That child Anna's holding in her arms is their son, Christoph."

Ernst had no idea where that had come from, but now he had started, he didn't want to stop. He wanted to continue, to try and make both Klaus and Hanschen understand.

"And Thea, she's always trying to look for outrageous adventures, but her last one hurt her far too much, and now she's a self-proclaimed spinster. Martha…when her father died she just left, in the night, didn't say a word. She made a new life; I think she's married to a bank clerk in Frankfurt now. Ilse and Melchior, nobody ever sees them anymore. And now Anna and Georg are getting married. Do you see? I am the only one who hasn't moved on. I stopped time for him. You know…" he laughed nervously. "Sometimes I didn't even see the point in everything I did. And then I remembered that it was all for him, when he finally came back. And he came back. And then it turned out that everything I had ever done for him was a waste of ten perfectly good years. And don't say you do not understand what I am trying to explain, because I know you do"

It was a beautiful day for a wedding, and the guests were laughing and talking and generally being blissfully happy and carefree. But at that point, it felt like darkness hung over the two men by the trees, cutting them off from everyone else.

"I loved him. As I have never loved anyone" Ernst echoed. "And it all came down to nothing, in the end. Such is life, I suppose. But that doesn't stop it hurting. And now he's leaving me behind, yet again, running away as soon as he broke me for a second time"

"I'm sure he had his reasons" Klaus said, his voice coarse.

"That may be. That doesn't make anything better, though"

Klaus choked out a laugh, and it almost sounded as if he was about to cry. Almost.

"Dear lord, Ernst, I never knew you were such a sentimentalist"

"You would not be the first to say that"

"This man is quite obviously a coward. You deserve better"

"It's not so simple. I don't want anything better. I just want him"

"You can't spend your whole life waiting for him to face his fears"

"It's all I've done for the last ten years. You see, I always thought it was my fault that he didn't come back. It was, in a way"

"How could you ever be at fault?"

"By making idiotic mistakes that should have never been made"

"People make mistakes, and people have to repent for them"

"Love is never a mistake"

Klaus sighed, and leant back against a tree. Ernst ran a hand over his face, already regretting saying too much. But Klaus was leaving tomorrow, and he wasn't ever going to come back. Some things needed to be said.

"Why were you at the graveyard before?" he muttered.

"I was visiting Moritz Steifel and Wendla Bergmann"

The reply froze Ernst from the inside. His blood turned to ice. They were getting awfully good at catching each other off guard, he noted.

"Moritz…"

"When I saw Melchior, in Berlin, I told him I was coming back here, and he asked me to visit their graves for him. Too ashamed to do it himself, I think. He asked me to tell them that they were right, and that he was sorry. He isn't all there anymore, Melchior"

"He knew you were returning?"

"Yes. It wasn't particularly spontaneous, Ernst"

For a moment there was quiet.

"Who are you?" Ernst asked. "Are you Hanschen, or are you Klaus?"

"I am both. You can't ever bury who you are, but you can lock them up and force them to keep quiet. Only at nights will I let myself escape"

"I love you, Hanschen. I always have. I never stopped, not once"

"That's because you never let yourself forget. Forget me, Ernst. I'm serious. There is nothing for us here or anywhere"

"I will love you until I die" Ernst repeated fiercely. "I can't do anything else. All I have ever done is missed you and missed the way things were. The timing was wrong, I understand, but there has to still be something there"

And that was when Hanschen brought his head down hard and fast and captured Ernst's lips with his own. The kiss was soft and tender and full of such a strong love that Ernst was drowning in it. He kissed back, his hand reaching up to hold the back of Hanschen's neck. His lips burnt and bruised, but he didn't care. He needed to be close, to have this connection to Hanschen, he needed to…

And then Hanschen drew quickly away, and he looked terror struck. His eyes were wild, like a dog that has been whipped, and he was shaking his head with small, slow, jerking movements. He was breathing fast, his face hot and flushed. Then he turned, and ran off through the trees and away.

Ernst did nothing, rooted to the spot. He reached up with a finger and slowly brushed at his swollen lips as hot tears began to swell and burst down his face. He swallowed, his throat dry and tight, and he gasped for breath.

"Hanschen…" he whispered to himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note****-Love is impatient. It ignores tradition and conventions. It is not borne by human constructs and the laws of men. Love reaches out and holds the open-hearted. It demands attention. It is in a world of its own, yet it connects worlds that will forever be set apart – Benjamin Zephaniah (Tam Lyn Retold).**

The train station was empty, which made sense, seeing as it was so early in the morning. Ernst sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, wondering not for the first time why he had bothered to even come here. He was sitting on his bench, as usual, the wood sodden from last night's rain sticking to his trousers. But this time, there was a purpose to him being here. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. He didn't know what time Hanschen's train left, or how long he would be waiting. He didn't know what was going to happen, or more importantly, what the outcome would be. But he was here.

He'd lain awake all night, questions pressing down and compressing his brain, in the silent, ghostly house. At one point, he'd been so anxious he'd even wondered whether Hanschen was right; that maybe it was wrong and despicable and everything else. But then faces appeared in his mind, voices in his ears, of smiles and laughter and sensations of pure, unadulterated love. It had made them happy, and it did not hurt anyone, so it couldn't be so immoral. He just needed to help Hanschen see that again. Because there was still something, it was completely undeniable. He closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them again. He was petrified. What if everything went wrong?

Love is a little like a wound, he thought to himself. One could cry over it and try to cover it, but eventuality and time were the only things that could heal it properly. It could become infected and sore, tender to the touch. Or it could scab over, and you could forget about it until something happened that opened it up again.

He looked up at the clock, to see that the little hand was drawing up to ten to eight. He shivered a little, and tried to tell himself that it was the cold morning and wet bench that was making him do so, and not the anticipation that ran through his veins. The door of the station opened, and a man walked through. He was an older man, with a bowler hat and smart black coat, with a newspaper under his arm. Ernst turned away from the man, and breathed out slowly through his chapped lips.

And then the station slowly began filling up with people, and their chatter resonated through the air like a drill.

"Are you looking forward to seeing Aunt Gottlieb, dear?"

"It's been so lovely seeing you, Eberhard"

"Oh, Franz, don't forget your ticket!"

"Hans, I made you some sandwiches!"

"I don't want to go, mama! I want to stay here!"

"It's been terrific seeing you, Niklas. I'll miss you"

"Jan, stop being such a baby. Oh, you soft arschloch, come here…"

Ernst scoured the crowd as the platform slowly filled up. It seemed that with each passing second, another person appeared, until there was no room to breathe. Nobody sat next to him. He was far away enough for people to completely ignore him altogether. After a while he became desperate. Maybe he wasn't coming? Maybe he would be here the next hour, or the next, but he just wasn't here now.

And then he saw a thin trail of smoke hovering over the heads of the crowd.

His heart hammered in his chest as the small cloud drifted slowly in his direction. And then Hanschen was pushing his way through the mass of people to stand slightly on their edge. Once again, as on the first day, he was surrounded by a few battered bags and cases, in a huge black coat and hat that covered him from head to toe, and he was smoking a cigarette. Ernst's mouth pressed tightly in a small smile. Hanschen looked up, looking for the train. Then he saw Ernst, and he froze.

The cigarette dropped from between his lips and it fell.

The two men stared at each other from across the platform, silent, as though the hubbub of the station had faded away. Then Ernst raised his hand in a half-wave, and the tension broke. Hanschen smiled. Ernst stood up, and walked over to him.

"Hello, Ernst" Hanschen whispered, and his dry eyes were brimming with sadness.

"I've come to see you off" Ernst said, stopping in front of him, his eyes level with Hanschen's. It was rather odd, he suddenly thought. He'd always imagined himself to be much smaller than his lover (and was that term still appropriate?). That had been true, when they were fifteen, but now they were about the same height, and Ernst had only just realized that. He supposed it was Hanschen's status, his power in everything his did: his voice, his walk, his cool superiority. It was strange. "And because I…I wanted to say…Well, I wanted to say…thank you. I wanted to say thank you"

Hanschen looked completely bewildered. "Ernst-"

"No, wait!" Ernst interrupted. "This past week has been incredible. You have been a wonderful friend to me, Klaus, when I thought nobody ever would. You are kind, a-and intelligent, and an all around good person, and I thank you for it"

"You are still calling me by that name?" Hanschen enquired.

"I thought it was what you wanted" Ernst admitted, shifting a little, uncomfortably.

"I would have thought I'd said too much to expect you to still use it"

"Well…alright, but I do mean it, you know. Thank you"

"For what?" Hanschen muttered bitterly. "For coming back? You would have been better off without me in the first place, and we both know it"

"I don't" Ernst murmured, so nobody else could overhear him. "I love you. Even if you don't care for me anymore, like you used to-"

And then the breath was crushed out of him as Hanschen enveloped him in a tight embrace, pressing his arms around Ernst's thin body until Ernst felt sure his very bone would crack and splinter into little shards. He breathed in Hanschen's smell, an oaky smell of tobacco and grass and something else that he remembered clearly.

"Don't you dare" Hanschen said into his ear, and it sounded very much as if he were struggling to hold back tears. "Don't you ever think that I don't care for you, Ernst. God, I always cared…I never forgot…"

Ernst closed his eyes as warm, foggy tears slipped down his cheeks and into Hanschen's shoulder. He could feel warm breath tickling his cheek, and those forceful arms holding him ever-tighter. Surely this wouldn't last, he thought. Surely somebody would see them, and then it would all be over. But seconds ticked by, feeling as long and drawn-out as years, and nothing happened.

"That place…" Hanschen whispered. "You cannot understand what they do there"

"And I would never try to"

"It was for you. It was always for you. Everything, I…"

The two broke apart, and Hanschen wiped angrily at the water forming on his cheeks with his sleeve like a small child, his face contorted with effort.

"I am not the same" he muttered, his eyes flickering right and left, focusing on nothing and everything that wasn't the man in front of him. "As I was before"

"And nor am I"

"I care for you. And I don't want to see you hurt. Forget me" Hanschen said firmly.

"I cannot, and I will not"

"You are right; you have changed. I do not remember you being so defiant. Lord, we are as like strangers again"

"That isn't true. I would do whatever possible to change your mind"

"I am troubled. You would wish differently after a matter of weeks"

"Hanschen, who do you think I am? You are purposely trying to put me off…" Ernst muttered. Then he sighed. "But I sense I will not win this battle. I only came here to wish you off, and I have done so. Forgive me"

Hanschen made no move. He only stayed completely still, statuesque, looking down at his feet and his suitcases. Ernst sighed painfully, and turned around. He took a step away, and his throat burned, his eyes inflamed. He took another step, and another.

"I would need time…to figure things out"

Ernst stopped. And then, like the roar of some dark phantasm, the sound of the Hammermier sounded in the distance. The noise built up, louder and louder, into a banshee's scream as metal scratched metal and the monstrous machine crawled around the corner, wheezing steam from its funnel. It sounded sick. The clamor of the crowd was overshadowed by the thunderous sound, and a shadow fell over the station as the train, glorious and ugly, screeched to a halt and the doors slammed open. For a moment, the world was silent. And then time began again as the people began boarding.

Ernst turned back. Hanschen had not moved from his previous position.

"I wish things could be different. I wish things could be as they were. I still love you, Ernst, God, you have no idea…but everything else has changed"

"I know, Hanschen"

Hanschen lifted his head up, and for a moment Ernst saw him. He saw the lemon-coloured hair and the seas of worlds in his eyes. He saw the elegant, aristocratic curve of his nose and his slender face. He could almost see, if he imagined, the bow of his lips slicked and curved into a smile that would look like a sneer to anyone else, but that he knew was just from a gentle teasing. He saw him as he was when he was fifteen. But then he noticed the weariness in the creases of his skin, and the hollow sadness in his eyes, and there he was now, Hanschen, a twenty-five year old man who has lived too much.

"I think I have to catch my train now" Hanschen said, with a smile.

"Yes…" Ernst whispered. Hanschen bent down, and picked up his bag. "W-will you come back?"

"Yes, I will"

"Do you promise?" Ernst said desperately. Hanschen smirked, and looked him up and down, and he shivered, suddenly intimidated.

"Well, with you here, how could I possibly not?" Hanschen teased, with a small smile. Ernst just looked at him.

There was no final embrace, no tears, no words. Ernst stood and watched as the platform emptied and the Hammermier sloped off into the distance. It was not possible to predict what the future would hold, when all he had were words. And from his experience, he knew that words could mean anything. But, somewhere, he liked to think that Hanschen was coming back. And who knew? Maybe he would, some day. Maybe he would bring Klaus Schittmann along with him, or a completely new person. Or maybe he would just bring himself. And, of course, there was the possibility that he would just run again, but Ernst could wait, and he would wait. He would wait as long as it took for Hanschen to return to him.


	12. Chapter 12

**(Six Months Later)**

_Dear Anna,_

_I apologise for not writing to you as quickly as I wanted to. In truth, I have not quite known what to say to you. It seems only yesterday you were married, when really it has been so long. Time can be a frightening thing to those who have faced the wrong side of it. I should know._

_I expect you are angry with me for leaving, and for not saying goodbye. I can only offer my humblest apologies for it. I did not wish to cause any disruption to anything. And in all honestly, I did not know where I was going, or what would happen to me when I got there. I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for wronging you._

_I wish I could tell you everything. I wish I could tell you of the sounds of the brook, and how it sounds so different to the river back home. It's so sunny here, Anna, a beautiful light that never seems to find our town. I wish I could tell you of how everything is the __lightest, most vibrant green that you have ever seen, and how it stays that colour even when thunder rolls over the hills. Even the rain is softer here. But words cannot describe it. Someday you shall have to come and see it for yourself._

_It isn't all easy. He has nightmares, horrible, twisted dreams that wake him in a cold sweat and screaming. He says that me just being there helps him, but it is so painful for both of us, and I only wish I could do more. I think he has been somebody else for so long he can hardly remember how to be himself any more, and it hurts him. He is getting better, though, I think. Some days he is even able to walk with me to the village. And even though we cannot be as we wish to be, it is enough._

_Once upon a time, he said to me that we could take a train to the country and be happy. I used to think that it would never happen. But it has. And although I miss you with all my heart, my dearest Anna, it was always the right decision._

_I am sure you do not fully understand my words. But someday you shall. Someday you will be able to come and visit and revel in the beauty of this place. But not now. Now is too soon. However, I shall wish and long for the day when you venture here. It is so beautiful; I am sure you will fall in love with it as I have. And even though you may be hesitant, remember that I am the same as I was before. He may not be keen at first, but I can be very persuasive. After all, I persuaded him to take me, did I not?_

_Goodbye for now, Anna. I hope that you will reply, and not just through this letter in the fireplace. But I have faith in you._

_With all my love and fondness,_

_Yours faithfully and always,_

_Ernst._

Anna smiled fondly, and ran her hand over the firm roundness of her stomach. She would go, someday, when she was allowed in. But until then, she could wait. And maybe she could take her child down, when the time came, to frolic and play in these beautiful green fields that Ernst loved so much.

She may have to reconsider her vows to murder Hanschen, she thought to herself, as she took up her pen and began to ink a reply.

**Note-Oh, how could I help myself? Short, I know, but it wrapped up pretty much all the loose threads, I think. I am leaving for summer, but will return soon enough with a brand new fic or two, and maybe a few hundred oneshots. Till then, ****auf ****wiedersehen!**


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